


and i'll put down my roots when i'm dead

by klemonn



Series: up the east coast, through the cold wind [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Chapter two, Clay | Dream Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream is Called Clay (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream is Lonely (Video Blogging RPF), Comfort, Confessions, Derealization, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Georgewastaken, Gream - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internal Conflict, LGBTQ Themes, Late Night Conversations, Loneliness, M/M, Minecraft, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phone Calls, Pining, Rain, Romance, Sad, Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Harm, Song - Freeform, Song fic, Songfic, Tension, Thunderstorms, Touch-Starved Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), a LOT of rain, based off of wilbur soot, dreamnotfound, is not romance oriented, keep in mind this fic, koinophobia, not meant to be a literature piece of art, sfw, since i saw vienna, so just wait, some of these apply to, they are talking for all of it, this is a vent fic once again, ycgma is a wonderful album
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klemonn/pseuds/klemonn
Summary: Or that one sushi restaurant he’d gone to for years, a regular to the point the staff knew his name and order just by the sound of his boots against the hard, wooden floor. How he had brought Sapnap to it, and introduced him to the servers. And when they went back, he had asked the younger how far away it was to the house, and he’d responded saying it was ten minutes to ‘home.’ And on the way there, while he stared out the window of shotgun, he wondered what it would be like to be in a home of three.Nights like this, where his eyes would fall shut. His body clock had adjusted to being across the sea, for whatever reason. His lungs would be full of the smell of rain, and he would stand in the cold downpour at 5 AM. With his eyelashes grazing his cheeks, and his breaths shaky yet steady. Sapnap would call him back inside, but he’d hold up a finger, and let the cold water seep beneath his shirt, just to feel the pricking needles. Just to feel what it was like to be reminded of his mortality.-----Dream has the need to do something more. He feels it. Deep in his bones, making him lay awake, trying to break free. Might as well leave all behind.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: up the east coast, through the cold wind [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150232
Comments: 18
Kudos: 73





	1. i'm not a man of substance (and so i'll pretend)

**Author's Note:**

> read tags before reading!
> 
> a month without uploading he comes back with another... vent & songfic... wAIT-

Alright, so maybe 4 A.M. was not the best time to text your friend cathartically.

The coldness in the dark room seeped into Dream’s bones, despite him being under the thick blanket. The only thing illuminating the bedroom was the moonlight slipping in through the lazily shut blinds, and the glare of the phone upon the tan face. The freckles that sloppily dotted his cheeks glowed under the bluelight, and his eyes were certainly not being helped by the strain.

The Orlando rain pattered against the house, puddling in the asphalt streets and splashing up against his windows. It brought a soothing sound to the otherwise silent atmosphere, but it was still too quiet for Dream. 

It was one of those nights, where his thoughts were too loud for his own mind. His chest rose and sank with every breath, his eyes shut with every blink, his Adam's apple bobbed every time he gulped, the cotton of his sheets rubbed against his arms with every shift. Yet he couldn’t relax, couldn’t unwind without an uneasy feeling, clutching his heart and restricting his breath.

He laid there, his limbs spread around him and his hair sprayed across the cool pillow beneath his head. A song was playing in his mind, one he couldn’t identify. It seemed like it was close to the end, so he let it play out with no attention, vaguely following the beat while still being lost. He was so tired, and yet so _awake._

Several minutes later, with open eyes, he tapped the familiar periwinkle of Discord. 

The first thing his eyes were drawn to was him and George’s DMs. Well, it was natural for that- George’s profile picture was a mess of colors. Ironic, for someone who couldn’t even see several of them.  
He tapped on the DMs, and they slid over to cover the whole screen. The blond held his breath, before opening the keyboard.

**Dream**  
_hi_

A few seconds later, a familiar _GeorgeNotFound is typing…_ appeared at the bottom of his screen. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise, really. The Brit’s sleep schedule was just as bad, if not worse, than his own.

**GeorgeNotFound**  
_Hey_  
_I thought you went to bed_

**Dream**  
_hhajdbdfhbf noo_  
_i’ve been up for a while now_

**GeorgeNotFound**  
_Oh_  
_Is something wrong_

**Dream**  
_no no_  
_why do u ask?_

**GeorgeNotFound**  
_Idk_  
_I can just tell usually_

**Dream**  
_u think ur smart ugh_  
_why are YOU awake tho_

**GeorgeNotFound**  
_I’ve been up for a while now_

**Dream**  
_i hate u_  
_can i call_

A few seconds ticked by, and Dream sucked in a breath. It might be too late for George, but he’d already pressured him into answering-  
The familiar sound of the phone ringing sounded throughout the mostly-tranquil room, and Dream quickly pressed the green answer button. The screen changed to show both of their icons on it, and a grin took over his face.  
“Hey,” he said, his smile surely evident in his tone.  
“Hey,” George responded, voice tired.  
“Did I-” Dream paused, swallowing, “did I wake you up?”  
“No, no,” he heard shuffling, “you didn’t. I was up from before.”  
“Oh, okay.”

“So,” the brunet inhaled, “why are you up?”  
“Same reason you are, probably,” he clicked his nails. “Nothing better to do.”  
“Well,” George huffed. “I could sleep…”  
“You could.”  
Silence.  
“But you won’t,” Dream continued.  
“No.”

The American’s face lit up even more.  
“I knew it,” he hummed. “You’re my simp.”  
An annoyed sigh was the reply.  
“I’m gonna hang up.”  
“You wouldn’t.”  
“I would.”  
“You could,” Dream nodded to no one, “but you wouldn’t.”  
“Try me.”  
“Bet.”

Another silence passed. Uncomfortable for one man, but hilarious for the other.  
“Told you!” The clover-eyed laughed.  
“Shut up,” George said, voice annoyed, but his smile seeping through.  
“Simp.”  
“Dream!”  
Cackling ensued, and even the Brit couldn’t hold back small giggles. That’s what being delirious from sleep deprivation did to a man, he supposed.

“Really though,” he spurred on, “what kept you up?”  
“Sleep schedule,” the Brit replied, “and editing that new video. You?”  
“Oh,” he thought for a moment. “Sapnap and I were just hanging out and I didn’t bother trying to fall asleep afterwards.”  
“You and him are having fun?” George’s tone was light, and that was genuine, but get any closer, and you’d hear the subtle envy dripping from the ends.  
“Yeah,” the other responded, cautious.  
“That’s good.”

Dream licked his lips, gulping and biting his cheek.  
“I did wish you were here, though.”

A small pause came by, processing.

“So do I,” George said.  
Dream silently exhaled at the tone of his voice. Their friendship went deep, he knew when George meant things. His voice, then, had softness leaking through the cracks of the words, a dam to the emotions.  
His heart felt gripped, clutched by the hands of ridiculous hope.  
“Then I could meet Patches.”  
The Floridian giggled, his eyes scrunching up with his nose.  
“You’re such an idiot,” though the words mean, his voice was soaked with gaiety.  
“Uh huh.”

“How’s editing going?” Dream asked after a moment, scrolling through Twitter.  
“Fine,” George sighed. “Not as fun as the actual video, obviously, but… could be worse.”  
“If only you had that energy with the vlog.”  
“Shut up.”  
Dream wheezed, mirth in his eyes.  
“Well, I mean, it’s good it’s going fine. I didn’t think you liked editing, though?”  
“Well, it’s part of the job, really.”  
“We have Dizzy and stuff, though.”  
A hum rang through, and the blond tilted his head, even if the only audience present was Patches, who lay next to him at the headrest.

“I guess I just… find it relaxing? I dunno.”  
“Really?” Dream couldn’t help but sit up a bit at the statement. “Since when?”  
“Um,” George paused, “since you showed me how to get into all of this stuff, I guess. I dunno.”  
“It’s just you’ve never mentioned this before-?”  
“You never asked.”  
“I-” Dream bluescreened for a solid five seconds. “I- huh?”  
There was laughter, and he shook his head in mock disappointment.

“What’s fun about it, to you?” He went on.  
“Well not- explicitly, uh, fun. Just… kinda piecing all the things together, I suppose. It’s nice, uh, looking back at things we did and everything.”  
“Do you only like editing because of the sentimental stuff?”  
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…”  
George stopped for a second. The air was filled with suspended, unspoken thoughts, ones that Dream wanted to yank down with his hands and peer inside. See what lay beneath the exterior.  
“I guess it’s just enjoyable, not my favorite part, but… it’s necessary. A part of the process, so I might as well enjoy it. And we do have editors I guess, I just… I dunno.””

“Huh,” was all Dream had to say seconds later. “I- I never knew that was what you had to say.”  
He could practically hear the shrug.  
“Never askeddd.”  
“You’re so annoying.”

“What about you, though?” George said, breaking away from the topic on himself. “Why do you edit your videos? Or most of them, I guess. Like how you mentioned on that stream…?”  
“Oh, well,” Dream thought for a moment. “I guess it’s just, y’know, part of the process. It’s fun, though, in a way.”  
“Fun?”  
“Well like the manhunts. They’re like, y’know, fast-paced and stuff, so I guess it’s just fun kinda, uh, making it intense with the music and everything. For the viewers and stuff.”  
“Ohh, okay.”  
“Yeah.”

Dream bit his lip again in the dark, hard enough to break through the pink skin. It didn’t, though, it only rested on the edge of pain.  
“It sounds lame, I know,” he continued. “But I enjoy some of it.”  
“Valid,” George replied, and then yawning. “V-aww-lid.”  
“You’re tired, huh. Go to sleep, I don’t wanna keep you up any longer…”  
“No, I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep that properly…”  
“Go to bed,” Dream felt his voice get stern, and out of his control.  
“Dream, I’m fine,” the English light-heartedly replied, voice slurred with slight laughing.

The blond sighed, slightly frustrated, yet knew his friend would be fine. A little sleep deprivation never hurt anyone, or he’d be dead on the floor.  
“Alright,” he resigned. “But when I go to bed, you should too.”  
“It’s already so early…”  
“Please, as if you don’t sleep during the day.”  
“Barely!”  
“Nap.”  
“I can’t nap-”  
“Close curtains, lay in bed, bam. Nap. Night time all over again.”  
“You really want me to sleep.”  
“Well, I’m looking out for you. Like, if-if you don’t sleep then you’re not as funny, and you already struggle with that.”

“Dream!”  
“Hey, I’m just saying, what happened to the ‘oh I could leave you to sleep?’ Which brings me back to point A, you’re my s-”  
George let out an overexaggerated yawn, drowning out the useless argument falling from Dream’s mouth and over the line.  
“I am feeling quite tired, I suppose I’ll just sleep-”  
“Yeah,” the other scoffed, “go to sleep, I might as well jump on the SMP and cause a new war for you to sleep through.”  
“I- ugh- you’re so annoying-”  
“And yet you’re here.”  
“Unfortunately.”

Dream couldn’t help but start and chuckle. His hand fell over his mouth, muffling the jollity from the ridiculousness. George broke down in a fit of laughter, snorts falling through his lips and blessing Dream’s ears with the small intakes of breath between the giggles. He could practically see the other man’s scrunched up eyes and grin, which only further made him grow happier.  
“You’re such an idiot, George.”  
There was only a playful ‘hmm’ in return, and the two of them fell into silence once again.

The sound of rain from the outdoors made itself present again, splashing even harder against the clear windows, and making the palm trees sway dangerously in the harsh wind. Clanging on the side from a branch continued, if not worse than before. He placed the phone next to his ear on the bed and closed his eyes gently.

Dream always laid on the left side of his bed. It wasn’t his entire problem, really, he’d always left the right side to his previous girlfriends. Despite the fact that he now laid alone, he still found himself drifting over the left.  
He wondered what it would be like, if George was on the right side.  
He’d be able to wake up to tousled brown hair against the pillows, heterochromia eyes staring in the dark, pale and porcelain skin against his tanned own. Fuck.  
He felt selfish.

Not because he had a crush. But because he wanted to drag George into something that was his own to deal with. The need to be seen, to be heard. To be _remembered._ The intoxicating feeling of being praised, the addiction caused by the inflation of his ego, be it temporary or lasting. If he brought him anywhere near his true self, he’d chase him away again.

He loved his fans, really. His channel was great, and he was so proud of the members of the DSMP. But at the same time, Dream felt the urge to push himself to the top. The icy, trickling sensation in his veins when his head was bombarded with scenarios of him being at the top forever. How it felt when his heart raced at the thought of being able to look down upon everyone else.

He hated every moment of it, with every fiber of his being.

A question right then struck his mind. One that could be passed off as innocent, if he could get it right. One that could also push the boundaries of their friendship, test the limits. Crack the ceiling or break the walls of what they defined as a ‘normal’ conversation between the two. 

It was 4 AM, and you only live once. 

“Hey George?” he asked, voice involuntarily lowering.  
“Yeah, Dream?”  
“Are you happy?”

There was a pause, and then the blond knew he’d gone too far. A lighthearted situation turned into something with depth, this was when things got awkward and he would have to apologize and lea-

“Happy?” the blue-and-brown-eyed repeated.  
“Yeah, happy.”  
“Like…” there was another stop, “like… in the long term, or right now-?”  
“Long-term,” Dream clarified, fingers curling into the white sheets, twisting and turning the soft cotton. “Are you… happy, where you are?”  
“Yes.”

His hands stopped.  
“That was quick,” he played it off as a joke, and hoped no genuine surprise slipped through his teeth.  
“Well,” George, unbeknownst to Dream, shrugged. “It makes me happy.”  
“Do you…” the viridian-eyed gulped silently, tongue darting out to meet dry lips. “Do you think it’s your purpose?”  
“Dream-”  
The tan sucked in his breath, and raced to backtrack.  
“I’m sorry, this is weird, I-”  
“Dream,” George repeated, voice steadier. Softer.  
Dream stopped talking, breath held and eyes open again. Damned be the control that the elder had over his every move.

“Do I think it’s my purpose?” he continued. “I…”  
A feather hitting the carpeted floor could be heard over the rain, Dream swore. His eyes shut again, not squeezed, but hard enough for him to try and prepare for whatever came next. His jaw clenched, teeth slotting.  
“Not necessarily.”  
His eyes shot open.  
“No?” Dream clarified, forgetting about the music, or rain, or anything else at the moment.

“Not being a YouTuber, or streamer, no.”  
“But you enjoy it, so…?”  
There was a soft laugh.  
“That’s not what makes something a purpose, Dream,” he returned with a chastising remark. “A purpose is…”  
Rain pattered against the glass, almost intimidating. Overlooking.  
“A purpose is something that you live for, not something that makes you, y’know, wanna live for.”  
_What did that even mean?_  
“Um…?” He tried to begin.  
“No, okay- okay, listen.”  
The brunet inhaled, and the action made Dream’s breath slow.

“I think,” his voice was slow, words dripping like honey, “that someone’s purpose is something that they live for. Not something that they always want to, uh, live for, but- but something that makes life worth living. It benefits the world. Not always themself, and sometimes they may not like it, but it- it helps people. But they may like it. Like for me…”

He gathered his thoughts, with a patiently waiting Dream in the background.

“For me, when I say being a- like a YouTuber, or streamer or whatever isn’t my purpose, I mean those things specifically. But making people happy- I think that’s something that I’m here to do. And people are like ‘oh his personality is like a boiled rock,’ which- ha- which I guess is true, online at least. I think I’m private when it comes to being online, but- I make people happy.”

There was a pause.

“I’ve met people who ended up in different places in their lives than they expected. People who wanted kids by the age of thirty, but found themselves with a bursting and successful career instead, or people who wanted a certain job but ended up in a completely different industry instead out of necessity. Sure, these aren’t where they wanted to be, but it still helps. If they were to, hypothetically, die- they would not have died in vain.”  
George inhaled through his nose, catching a breath and sorting through his thoughts.

“I wanted to be a vet, when I was younger,” he giggled, a laugh of hindsight vision and memories.  
“A vet?” Dream repeated, a smile making its way onto his face again.  
“Yes,” George said, still laughing gently. “I… I wanted to help little animals be stronger. But as I grew older, my wishes changed, and even my new paths seemed to be diverging and changing, until I didn’t know where I was going. But coming along with you and Sap, Dream… I didn’t plan to be here. I had- obviously faith in you, when you said you’d blow up. But I never expected to be here. I didn’t think I’d be entertaining hundreds of thousands of viewers because of a block game, but it makes me happy. It makes me happy, because I know I’m making others happy. If I were to, hypothetically, die tomorrow, I would not die in vain. Even if some may think so.”

“And honestly,” he finished off, “I think that I’m completely fine with that, y’know?”

There was still silence, just because Dream couldn’t put into words what he was feeling at the moment. Huh.  
“I…” he began.  
He was trying to form words, but nothing fit together. They swirled in his head, crashing into one another as he tried to figure out a response to George’s explanation. His mouth opened and closed like a fish’s, and he knew he looked like an idiot to anyone who would be nearby.  
The shorter let out a nervous laugh, getting the blond’s attention. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk for so long…”  
“No, no,” Dream quickly said, alert. “I’m glad to hear everything you thought, it was really…”

He stopped talking, his voice trailing off as he tried to get his thoughts in order. George, though, he beat him to the punch.  
“It was interesting, for me at least,” the tiredness in his voice brought out a thicker accent. “Fr… freeing, maybe, for me.”  
“Freeing,” Dream found himself nodding. “That’s how it is for me.”  
“You have conversations like this regularly?”  
“Well,” his voice turned playful, verging sheepish. “No, not- _usually-_ ”  
George let out a dramatic sigh, and a flop onto a mattress could be heard in the background.  
“Can’t believe you have existential crises without me… what will I do now?” The pale’s voice sounded strained, feigning misery  
“Oh my god,” Dream snorted, with playfulness crawling back into his voice. “Shut up, we were having a _moment._ ”

“ _‘Moment’_.”  
“Yes, _moment_! We were bonding…”  
There was a scoff, preceding a response.  
“We can have moments without delving into the human psyche, Dream.”  
“God forbid I don’t vibe for one night!”  
“I’m pretty sure you were vibing, just… in a ‘causing concern’ sort of way.”  
“Concern!?” The younger’s voice turned into one of incredulousness. “I’ll let you know I’m totally mentally stable, but- well- WELL, you must admit we have all done this before.”  
“Done _what?_ ”

What he’d respond with would shift the conversation, or let it remain the same. This pocket of space he called home, it may stay light-hearted, or it could turn into a conversation that would lead the two down a rabbit hole. He kept pushing against the boundaries, and they would soon come tumbling down, suffocating him in the debris.

“Have conversations like these,” Dream said, caution and edge filling his voice. “Um… weird ones. Late at night ones.”  
“So you’ve talked like this to people before?” George asked.  
If the blond had thought any deeper, the other would almost sound something like possessive.  
“Never this far,” he responded. “Really.”  
“So I’m the only one you’ve spoken to, like this?”  
“Yes.”

The rain seemed louder now, or maybe that was the silence filling the room again. The rain almost seemed distant too, though, as if it played alongside the music in his head.  
“It must be a special topic, then,” George said after a bit.  
“Well,” Dream inhaled, before letting out the breath through his mouth in a deep sigh. “You could say that.”  
“Are you alright?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Just yeah?”  
“Yes, good sir, I am doing quite dandy! Golly, the stars are glittering down into my eyes-”

“Dream,” George’s voice turned serious.  
It made the younger’s heart freeze in place, almost, and panic rushed through his system. He chewed on his lower lip, the taste of metal entering his mouth as he let out a pathetic, almost insulting, “Yeah?”  
“Be honest with me,” the elder’s voice lowered, and the green-eyed felt his frozen heart thaw and flutter.  
“Okay,” a cracking voice said back.  
“Are you okay?”  
Dream stared at his phone screen, the two icons not lighting up. George’s profile picture looked back at him, colors glaring in the dark, almost hostile. His own one, a sleepy cartoon him, seemed to lay there innocently. But his heart in his throat told him he was not going to be sleeping peacefully after this, no.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

There was quietness, for a while. One full of uncertainty, and he closed his eyes again. Maybe he could teleport out of the conversation if he tried hard enough, maybe this was just a terrible nightmare.  
“That’s okay,” George said, voice oddly gone… soft. Gentle, maybe. “That’s alright.”

“This is weird, I’m sorry-” Dream scrambled to get his shit back together. This was… not going as he had planned.  
“Don’t apologize, it’s fine,” the pale man said, a shrug evident in his voice.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay. Then answer my question.”  
Dream shifted anxiously, looking through his blinds absentmindedly.  
“Okay?”

“Are you happy?”

The man froze, tanned hand still, unmoving against the white blond he held. He mouthed the word ‘fuck’ to nobody, having known the question would inevitably be returned to him. He had just never expected it to be so… blunt.  
“Am I… happy?” Dream asked (rather dumbly).  
“Yes.”  
“I…”  
He looked at the cars whizzing by in the night, colors of red and white flashing from the brakes and the headlights. Nobody out there knew who he was, or who he’d been talking to all this call.

“I- well. Yeah? I mean, I don’t-”  
“Yes or no, Dream.”  
If it weren’t for the fact he didn’t want to upset George, he would’ve let out the deepest sigh. But he was forced to keep it in, and think about the question that had been sent right back at him.  
“Okay. Well then,” George continued after getting no response. “Think about what you asked me.”  
“What did I ask you…?”  
“Is this your purpose?”

Dream’s shoulders relaxed, and he pressed the back of his head against the pillow, releasing the blinds and sinking into the sheets. His heart was racing in his ribcage, and his head spinning. Late nights did that to you, but that coupled with terrible conversations enhanced any effect.  
Was this his purpose?

George described it as not just being a YouTuber, or a streamer. It was broader, a bigger range than that, not just such a small subcategory. Every day, people woke up and checked their Twitters. They checked their YouTube for videos, their Twitches for any missed streams, when they could be spending time doing something else. Why?

Happiness. Maybe that was a key reason. The endorphins that one could chase, and get lost in the haze for hours on end when binging things someone enjoyed. Was that it? Was that why he was there?

To bring others happiness?

Maybe that. Or maybe it was for him to enjoy his time, maybe he got off easy in a past life. He could never know, unless there was some afterlife he was unaware of.

“Hell do I know,” a wheeze escaping him, he managed to have fully relaxed at that moment.  
He heard the brunet over the phone laugh with him, which only encouraged his to go on longer.  
Soon, the two were just laying there, across an ocean, smiles on their faces. His eyelids were drooping more, he could tell, weights dragging them down. His eyes had grown uncomfortable from the light in the pitch black, and he could feel the strain on his head.

His head no longer swirled, and his heart pumped normally, his breaths steady, and his pulse soothing beneath his skin.  
“That answers that, I suppose,” George finally said.  
“Yeah,” the blond sighed.  
“But you never answered my other question.”  
Other question…  
_’Are you happy?’_

“Dream?” the Brit asked, after seconds of silence had gone by.  
“Yeah…?”  
“Are you?”  
“I…”

Was he happy- well, shit.

Dream had plenty of things to be happy about. He woke up everyday, under a roof in a warm house, and he had a best friend who woke up in said house with him. He could cook pancakes at 3 AM whenever he wanted to, and laugh over the teamspeak call, and kiss Patches on the nose, and breathe in the scent of her gentle fur.

He could sit in a car with Sapnap, at sunset, and drive. The windows could be down, and they’d drive near the beach so the salt from the sea filled the car and the air all around them. And he stuck his head out of the window jokingly, getting laughter from the youngest. But it was the salty wind that went through his hair, and watered his eyes, and dried his throat, that made it all worth it, he thought.

Or that one sushi restaurant he’d gone to for years, a regular to the point the staff knew his name and order just by the sound of his boots against the hard, wooden floor. How he had brought Sapnap to it, and introduced him to the servers. And when they went back, he had asked the younger how far away it was to the house, and he’d responded saying it was ten minutes to ‘home.’ And on the way there, while he stared out the window of shotgun, he wondered what it would be like to be in a home of three.

Nights like this, where his eyes would fall shut. His body clock had adjusted to being across the sea, for whatever reason. His lungs would be full of the smell of rain, and he would stand in the cold downpour at 5 AM. With his eyelashes grazing his cheeks, and his breaths shaky yet steady. Sapnap would call him back inside, but he’d hold up a finger, and let the cold water seep beneath his shirt, just to feel the prickling needles. Just to feel what it was like to be reminded of his mortality.

Walking home from a short jog, second-hand smoke from a nearby passerby clogging his airway. Sweat making his hair slightly wet and colder, and the sky would be a depressing and dark blue from the early time. The air would be frigid, cold in the late year, and slightly warmer in the summer months. He remembered his old house, and how he could so easily recognize it from hills away. But now he remembered driving away from it, not in search of a new life, but a new chapter.

He woke up, every morning. In his dream house, with his dream friend, his dream life, as Dream. What more could a man like him ask for?

But those were privileges, gifts he earned from whatever universal karma that had blessed him. What about the days where he felt chained to the bed, the only thoughts going through him being those of weird, existential angst? When he felt like he wanted to shut his eyes and remain there forever? Did he need an outlet, help, or did he just need to get out more, show his ever-so-slowly paling skin some more sun?

The days where he would only feel alive by inflicting things an _alive_ person should feel, things that would only affect an alive person. Chasing after what felt like was slipping through his fingers, something to give him a reason to keep going, to feel what it felt like to be alive. To know what you’re doing, where you’re going, what’s happening. The days when everything passed by like a blur, and he found himself awake at eight in the morning with the sun peeking over the hills, wondering where the time had gone. Sapnap would come and look, and see his hair still neat, but circles under his eyes, and realize the extent of how far gone he was.

When was the last time he had tried to leave his state? Not with covid and everything happening, but when was the last time he had tried to travel? He was happy, living in Florida, it was the place he had called home since he was a child. But he always had to restrain himself when it came to impulsive buying a plane ticket for the next day, or when it came to switching onto a slightly different road that would lead him out of state. What was it that just urged him to go the different route? And what was it that kept him going in order?

Once, a month ago, Sapnap had caught him crying. He wasn’t ashamed of crying, obviously- he was an emotional man, who’d shed many tears over his life. But the worst part was that it was just ten at night, after he told him he was trying to get some early rest for a run tomorrow. He felt pathetic, having lied to the man just because he felt tears coming on, caused by nothing. The panic in the shorter’s eyes, mixed with confusion, just spilled into Dream’s own shame of the utter vulnerability he showed at that moment. It was when Sapnap came over, and hugged him, that he realized it might be okay.

When he was caught as a late teenager (maybe nineteen?) dragging a red marker over his once-tanned skin, wrists covered in the scarlet sharpie. His sister, although twelve, knew what it was, and immediately yelled for his mom. It took two seconds for him to grab a paper towel, another five to wipe it off his wrist with violent scrubbing, and a total of nine for his mom to come, with the urgency in Drista’s voice. She’d let him off the hook, not seeing the issue, but his sister knew. She always knew, from the missing bandaids, to the dwindling tissues (well, that could mean a different thing- haha.)

Now, fading scars lined his wrists, covered by hoodies and time itself. But from the way Sapnap’s and Drista’s eyes subtly scanned over the flesh, and how George’s eyes flicked down every now and then if his hands were on the screen… maybe they knew something he didn’t. Just maybe. He wasn’t ashamed of what he did in the past, but he regretted it. He knew he would, from the moment he saw the first speckle of red on his skin.

So it all came back to the question.

Was he happy?  
If he were to wake up tomorrow, and be given a second chance, would he take it? To go back in time, and replace all that is now?  
He eyed the flickering of green surrounding George’s profile image, caused by shuffling on the other end. Most likely from getting comfortable, but Dream knew he’d dragged the question on, with the quietness being deafening. Deafening to George, at least. To himself, he had no clue.

He breathed in, and felt George’s attention swing back towards him through the phone. He let out an exhale, and the heterochromia-eyed let out a lazy hum, as if to let Dream know he was still there. As if he could ever even think about forgetting him.  
“Just say it, Dream,” George murmured, accent thick in his sleepiness. “Say yes or no, I won’t judge. You’re fine.”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, long and thoughtful, George clearly processing what it was he had said.  
“Yes?”

“Yes, I’m happy where I am.”  
“It took you an awfully long time to figure it out,” the other replied, playfulness being the primary tone, but there was still concern.  
“I know, I just… I don’t know. I had to think.”  
“And you’re sure you’re happy?”  
_He sounds so concerned._  
“Yes, George.”  
“How?”

“Because I met you.”

The rain might have stopped, it might haven’t. Dream couldn’t tell, for he’d blocked out every sound that wasn’t George’s gentle breath over the phone. Even that, though, had silenced itself, and the familiar cold seemed to return to the blond’s veins, lacing every cell with a buzzing sensation. He’d left him speechless, and it made something twist around his heart.  
“You…” the familiar voice said after a moment, mixed with a nervous laughter. “I…”  
“You’ve changed me a lot, y’know. You and Sapnap, but… you’ve made me realize some things.”  
“And that’s good?”  
“Very,” Dream replied, slyly.

There was a long pause again- they seemed to be so common, between the two. At least right then they were, for violins were playing in Dream’s mind, with the rain banging against the windows. His skin prickled, as if he stood outside in the storm himself- it wouldn’t be anything new.

“I, um- you too,” George said.  
“Oh?” the American’s interested piqued, and he found himself looking at the phone, as if he was expecting something.  
“You’ve…” the brunet sighed, “you’ve changed me. Too.”  
“And that’s good?”  
“Yes.”  
A smile crept its way onto Dream’s face, making him grin in the pitch black. That, alongside a warmth flushing throughout his skin, heat crawling beneath his skin, turning his cheeks and shoulders a dusted red.  
“And Sapnap,” the Brit added.  
“Of course,” the other hummed. “We’ve all changed one another, for better.”

“Maybe for worse,” the older laughed, quiet, for Dream’s ears only.  
He couldn’t help but giggle in return. “Maybe a bit.”  
The two fell into silence again, and for the last time for the night. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of the green-eyed’s shoulders, and he was now able to just lay in his bed, on the clouds. He closed his eyes again, and let out a soft and short sigh.

Dream knew George wouldn’t want to continue the conversation too far, or at least this aspect of it. He wasn’t often one for expressing much of his emotions, aside from occasions like Thanksgiving, where the boys had their annual emotional messages. But that was fine- he knew what the British boy was thinking, the silence deafening.  
Perhaps it was a conversation for another day.

“Goodnight, George.”  
“Goodnight, Dream.”

The sound of the Discord call ending rang through the speakers, and Dream shut his phone down. He placed it on his nightstand and shuffled beneath the covers, with Patches now purring beside him.

Outside, the rain hadn’t stopped. It had kept going, throughout the call, and he could see lights in the distance. They flickered through the pouring storm, yellows and whites and reds shining. Even the blinds that fell upon his windows couldn’t stop them from coming through.  
Dream wasn’t complaining, though. It reminded him that he wasn’t the only one in the world, and outside, no one even knew he lay there. He wondered if anyone cared, even.

The world was not as small as he once realized. He had a place, but it was one among billions. But so did Sapnap, and George. And among billions, they were three. Three together, three apart, held together by a fragile red string.

And that was alright with him.


	2. the roads are my home (as horizon’s my target)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter features a part that involves what some may find as slight derealization- it’s not meant to be an accurate portrayal of any mental conditions or such, but instead based off of my personal experiences involving derealization, and I heavily project onto Dream during the portion. I do not have DPDR/DPD, and this is in no way trying to depict that exact condition. I have suffered with derealization in the past before, though. So, if you are sensitive to any derealization-related things, please be wary when reading this chapter, or don’t read it at all. The scene begins when Dream enters the restaurant, and vaguely continues when he leaves the restaurant._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN.

The dark sky above shone deceiving; its deep blue, mixing with the oncoming morning sun, could’ve appeared to be a sunset. Yet here it was, six in the morning, the edges of the heavens turning into a light, solemn blue. The gray clouds began to stand out against the sun, tangerine and honey melting and mixing with the cool hues of the atmosphere.

Birds chirped in the distance, somewhere far above in their nests. That was one of the only noises in the chill air, as the day began once more. The ground was soaked and crammed with water from now-ended rainfall, the roads turned wet and the dirt into mud. Only the walkways beneath the roofs were safe, and even then, splatters of water could be found dotted along the floor.

Dream exhaled, and his breath escaped from his lungs visibly. The white puff of air shifted and scattered, soon turning back into nothingness. The cold nipped at his fingertips, and he shoved his hands in his pockets at the same time as he was dragging his small suitcase. The handle hooked through his arm, and he murmured curses beneath his shivering breath at the lack of layers he chose to wore out that day.

His chapped lips cracked more with each step he took towards the automatic sliding doors, and he clenched his jaw in order to stop the teeth-chattering. Dream’s tongue darted out in an attempt to relieve the dryness, but did nothing, as the cold made them miserable once more. His eyelids felt heavy beneath the chill of the air, but he forced himself to keep on moving across the asphalt.

The doors slid open before him and into the airport, and he felt a breath of relief leave him. Clover eyes scanned over the giant room, with people passing him left and right, and the sickening smell of coffee wafting back and forth all around him. It took great will power for him to not swirl around right then and there, and march back out into the early morning.  
If he knew any better, he’d be at home in his bed, with Patches curled beside him. Maybe he’d even be up, and in the kitchen, sipping cocoa as he watched the sun rise from beyond the hills.

He did not know better, though. No, no- he certainly did. However, he was a man of pure will and resistance, especially against himself.

With a deep intake of breath, his legs powered on, and he let his small suitcase roll behind him, and his lazily-slung backpack on his shoulder rock back and forth.  
(To avoid any more complication, he’d taken a backpack and a suitcase small enough to store overhead- it’d pay off in the long run. Yup. Definitely.)

Thankfully, he had planned out the steps to his trip, despite him going on such short notice. Having checks in to everything in advance, he felt a sense of pride wash over him as he awkwardly set his suitcase on an escalator step next to him. Look at him, being a functioning adult about to travel the world.

Travel the world. 

Oh, now _that_ was daunting, when put like that. He pushed any thoughts away caused by the phrase. It was too late to regret anything, it would’ve been too late from the moment he booked the tickets.   
This is what he was going to do. He couldn’t take another night of him laying in bed, wondering what it’d be like, to be anywhere but there. How it would be to open his eyes, and see a different bed beneath him, and hear people outside his room, and what it would be like to live a different life every day.

And who was he, to not pursue a dream?

Dream pursed his lips as the stairs neared the top, and he looked around for the TSA line, before his eyes fell upon it.  
Fuck.

He hadn’t expected a short line, especially in a Jacksonville airport. But, Jesus, he couldn’t catch a break. No one could, from the looks of it, and from how many people fidgeted in their spots, he could tell that the agents weren’t exactly being the quickest.  
Clenching his teeth, he stood behind the woman in front of him. He rolled his head around on his neck in an attempt to stretch, and also to kill the slowly-passing time. It felt like his heart was doing the same in his chest, beating violently against the rib cages and causing havoc within his body.

The woman stood still, surprisingly still for someone in this situation. She had red hair, dangling by her waist, and her bones were visible against her sandy skin, cherry tinging the joints. From the way her jean’s knees were harshly faded against the darker denim, and how there was a subtle rip along her sleeve, Dream wondered if she was someone who held onto things. Someone who worked, and didn’t let go of anything easily.   
Maybe it was just a hunch, though. He didn’t usually try to psychoanalyze strangers.

He wondered how it was that he was viewed, from an outsider’s perspective. How his green flannel had a single paint stain on the back from years ago, when he brushed too close to a wet wall. Or how his hair was disheveled from the quick combs he ran through it a few hours ago, and how Sapnap pulled his wrist from the room.  
The gap between him and the woman had increased significantly, and he hurried forward, mumbling an apology to those who stood behind him. This wasn’t the time to be daydreaming, or thinking beyond what was needed. It never was, nowadays. But maybe soon, he could do just that.

He got to the point where he had to show his ID to security, so they didn’t let in any randos who tried to wander around the airport. The Floridian took out his passport and waited patiently for the confirmation. After a few seconds, with a nod and a hand, he finally moved onwards. He turned to wait for his friends, but spun back around in embarrassment.  
 _Idiot._

After a while, he worked his way up the line, and eventually one of the first few. Dream bent over and untied his shoes, preparing to take them off for the agents up ahead. His unbuckled his belt and took out all of his electronics, setting them within a container.  
Shoving it onto the conveyer belt, with tired eyes, he pressed onwards.

It was all blurring together, at this point. All he could really feel was coldness, tiredness, and missing his friends. He missed his boys, who he now desperately wanted standing beside him.  
But he made a decision against that, despite the fact he knew this would happen. Dream knew he would miss them, obviously- and they would miss him. It was terrible, moving through the airport as one. One day, though, it’d be three, he swore.   
Today was just not that day.  
 _Wish you were here,_ he’d text to them, if he had any confidence. But he knew he was the cause of his own emotions, unfortunately, with no one to blame but his ridiculous needs.

He stood in the metal detector and put his arms above his heads absentmindedly, dazed as the agent behind a screen’s eyes scanned over the images.  
When told to get out, Dream definitely didn’t spend any extra time in that thing. He was three hours early to his flight (Three hours. Three whole hours), but didn’t want to wait any longer. He grabbed the black adidas out from the bin that went through the detector, next to his belt and bag, and quickly moved to a bench.  
The first thing he did was get his phone from inside his bag, tanned hands hastily typing away a message to the group chat.

**Dream**   
_just passed through security :) i did not have a bomb thankfully . this time_

A few seconds passed, before familiar ‘typing’ messages showed up.

**George**   
_That’s a surprise_

**Sapnap**   
_pfFT_   
_is the airport busy?_

**Dream**   
_ehh_   
_not terribly_   
_it’s average_

**George**   
_Call us before you board?_

**Dream**   
_wow clingy much_   
_but yes yes i will_

**Sapnap**   
_mf you better_   
_if the plane were to hypothetically crash and burn and kill everyone (including you) inside then your final words to me would’ve been ‘then die’ as you exited the car_

**George**   
_And that would be sad_

**Sapnap**   
_that would be sad_

**Dream**   
_OKAY I GOT IT_

**George**   
_Good._

**Sapnap**   
_: ) ) )_

With a soft laugh, Dream stuffed the phone into his pocket and slung the backpack over his shoulder one more. He pulled up his suitcase’s handle and sighed in relief at the realization- he was now free from the stupid, useless TSA, and could actually move. Eat.   
Holy shit, he needed to eat.

The blond hadn’t realized how _hungry_ he felt until that moment, where his stomach rumbled embarrassingly loud, and he quickened his pace towards any food. Shit, it was almost seven AM. Was anywhere in the place even open?  
He felt like he was going to wither away on the spot, before his eyes finally fell on a dimly lit restaurant. Whatever deity was out there, be it the universe or God himself, it was just a restaurant. Whatever it had probably wasn’t the most breakfast-esc food, but it was _food._

He sauntered towards it, only lazily because his stomach couldn’t exactly take running at the moment. Jesus, this is why he should’ve eaten that granola bar. He’d taks that over the emptiness he felt, one previously covered by the stress of the flight and situation itself.   
Well.   
Shit.  
Dream stretched his legs once he reached inside, and lowered his suitcase’s handle. It was a ‘sit wherever you want, no one gives a shit’ type of place thankfully, so he took a seat near the entrance. Totally not because it was the closest and he was laz- low effort. Nope.  
Stifling a yawn in his mouth, his eyes blankly gazed over the menu. He was taking in absolutely nothing that he was reading, but his stomach was still making him try. God damn it, if he was going to starve, he might as well have turned illiterate first.

“Um…” he said after a moment to the poor server, that had popped up next to him at some point. “What’s the most popular thing for uh… like… um. Lunch.”  
The server looked at him for a moment, blinking.  
“It’s a simple BLT, sir.”  
“I’ll take that, please.”  
The server nodded, and Dream took a short sip of his water as the employee left him alone. He was tired, hungry, and cold. Almost miserable, but the anxiety and excitement of the trip itself kept pooling into his stomach, twisting his guts in the best way possible. But his blood felt like ice, sometimes, before it melted. And then, of course, reformed.

He felt the water trickle down his throat, cold and almost sharp against his hot insides. Being awake this early in the morning was the norm for Dream, with his sleep schedule constantly being off of the rails. Though, there was something about the atmosphere the airport held in its air, that made it feel almost liminal. Unreal. The way the light hit the walls, and the conversations drowned out in the background, felt as if he were being carried through a lucid dream.

“Here you are, sir,” and a sandwich on a plate was dropped in front of him. Why was a restaurant in an airport so refined? Wait, how long had even passed? How did it get there so quickly-?  
“Thank you,” Dream murmured, eyes fixed on the plate as the server walked off.  
 _Eat it, now,_ his consciousness said. He wanted to eat it.  
He continued to look at it, eyes unwavering as he blankly looked at the plate.  
After a moment, he finally picked it up and bit into it, flavor coating his tongue. It did nothing to distract him from the people around him, though. Nothing to keep his mind off of whether or not this was all actually real. Oh. Fuck.

He put the sandwich down and pressed his hands to the cool, wooden surface beneath. His shut his eyes and inhaled slowly, remembering the night this happened in front of Sapnap. Cold air filled his lungs.  
 _Feel your chest rise and fall,_ the Texan had told him. _How the oxygen enters and exits your lungs, feel the surface beneath your fingers and the temperature, how it’s hot, cold, or neither. Hum for me- good job- feel the vibration of your throat again- here- your palm._  
Jade eyes opened slowly, and he licked his lips as he stared at the sandwich in front of him. He picked it up and took another bite, breathing out and chewing. This was fine. Airports were fine, and they existed, just like him.

Dream breathed and squeezed his legs together and shoved the sandwich shamelessly in his mouth, finishing it within a few minutes. He wiped his face and hands using a few napkins he’d taken on the way in and downed the bit of water he had left, even though he wasn’t thirsty. He bit down on the insides of his cheeks and pulled out his wallet when he saw the server approaching.  
“Here’s your bill, sir,” the server said, but it sounded as if their voice was drowning, suffocated by invisible water.  
“Thank you,” Dream had replied, but he couldn’t tell if it was him. The words left his mouth before he could think about them, ripped from within uncontrollably.  
 _It is you. It is you._  
He signed his signature on the bill and handed it back it to the waiter, and watched as it was taken. His gaze wandered around the room, watching as the sun rose higher, as if mocking him.

_Look how fast I’m rising, huh? Before you know it, I’ll be gone._

The server placed his bill back on the table, and he lazily fished out his credit card and slid it back into his wallet.  
“Have a nice day,” the waiter said.  
“You too.”

Standing up and wobbling, the blond grabbed his suitcase and backpack and made his way out of the restaurant. He focused his gaze on the long, wide hallway in front of him, with a bright sign reading ‘Gates C10-C38’ in white. Glass surrounded the sides of the corridor, painting the carpeted floor in a saturated orange.  
As he walked down it, he himself got bathed in the sunlight, and he felt the warmth against his bare forearms. Shivering, he moved on, sighing in defeat when the light disappeared as he passed by an opaque wall. For the fifth time, he really should’ve gotten a sweater. If he had picked one up from home, that had ‘accidentally’ been washed with George or Sapnap’s clothing, he could hold it to his nose and inhale the smell. The smell of home.

Fuck.

He blinked and kept walking, emerging into a brightly lit area, where the gates lay. Dream passed by dozens and dozens of people sitting down, ready to go to different areas, near and far. At one point, he walked by a man who had easily more than ten pins on his jacket, one from each different place.  
 _That should be me,_ he thought. _No, no, I just- want that._  
His gaze fell upon his gate after walking for a bit longer. _C28._ The seats weren’t entirely full in the waiting area, and with a sigh of relief, he sat down in an unoccupied seat. It faced the runways outside, and the closest person to him was a middle-aged woman three seats away. Exhaling, he laid his head back against the seat and shut his eyes. His suitcase stood beside him, and his backpack was tucked beneath his legs. Just a few hours, and he’d be out of Florida. For a while.

The sound around him of the airport felt like it was blurring into the background, mixing and swirling with each other, drowning out one another. It seemed muffled, almost, as he felt his eyes grow even heavier despite being shut. Not many people were in the terminal, and there were staff a few feet away who saw him enter, so he had no fear over his luggage being stolen. What if Sapnap or George called? Or Alex, Karl…   
The thoughts drifted off with the airport’s commotion. Muffled, thick in his mind, suffocating to focus on.   
Static mingled with what remained.

—

Dream raised his head, staring up at the sky. It was dark, a deeply muted shade of blue covering the entire sky, so close to black. Stars dotted the abyss, like burning sparks in an ocean. The air around him was chill, but he couldn’t feel it, for it wasn’t something he was particularly focusing on at the moment.

The moon in the way was- wow. The moon, it was dark, almost invisible, with a streak of light being the only thing showing its presence. Dream has never seen a new moon in real life, and he examines the celestial object, before moving on. How weird, the new moon was. It illuminated clouds surrounding it, like balls of cotton in indigo water.

He looked around, pushing blond hair from his face. Tall trees stood all around him, and acorns appeared to be hanging off of them. They loomed over him, shooting into the night sky, and he couldn’t tell where they ended without feeling a tug backwards. With that in mind, he redirected his focus onto everything else around him. 

Below his feet, against the ground, was water. Everywhere against the… forest(?) floor, was water. It was clear and reflective, like a giant mirror was glued to the ground. Ripples moved when he shifted, sending distortions through the crystal clear reflection. It was disorientating to look down, so Dream held his head up, and looked from the corner of his eye. 

Immediately, something caught his eye, a few years away- a woman, shorter than him, in casual clothing. It was the same woman he saw at security, with the red hair and thin stature. He squinted, and her image blurred and wobbled before him.

It was here when he looked up again, to the full moon. But the full moon no longer stood alone, but next to… another one. A crescent, dangling in the sky, gleaming down upon him and the stranger.  
The realization hit him like frigid water being thrown against his face. This was a dream. A lucid dream, so vivid and real he started to doubt his own thoughts.  
 _No, it’s a dream. It is a dream._

“Hello?” He spoke.  
“Hi there.”  
The woman had a crackly voice, like fire in a hearth. It was chipped around the edges, breaking off at every syllable, worn and undone. It took him a moment to realize the voice had been coming from her, just because he was so surprised at the audio his brain had decided to generate and assign her.  
“Who are you?” The man pressed on.  
The redhead shrugged, like she knew nothing more than what he did. And that _would_ be right, seeing as she was just a figment of his overly-active, ADHD-riddled imagination. 

“You don’t know, so I don’t know,” her eyes met his- green, he thought.  
“Damn. Got me there.”  
She cracked a smile, and her eyes averted his. Her blue shorts wrinkled as she moved away, and broke into a run. The water splashes up from behind her, the shards of moonlight hitting them. He could almost feel them against his skin, dull pricks of something cold.  
He couldn’t help but run after her, fearing the dream would come to an end. He dashed off after her, loose hair blowing in the fake wind.

Dream could never run that well in dreams, but this time was different. For once, it no longer felt like he was running in mud, but like he was freer. There were no invisible binds around his ankles, but even then, the woman seemed to be getting further and further ahead.   
Full consciousness knocked at his brain, and he forced himself to stay focused in the dream.

After a moment of running, he slowed to a stop again. His eyes darted around, and he finally saw a silhouette. It looked a bit taller, this time, though. It made even more sense, though, when the moonlight hit the silhouette, to reveal a familiar brunet standing in its place.  
Dream stood there, facing George, when someone else emerged next to the Brit. Sapnap.  
“Hello,” he weakly whispered, even though he knew they weren’t real.

“Hello?” Sapnap’s eyes narrowed. “You abandon us, and all you have to say is hello?”  
Venom dripped from the ends of his words, pooling within the water beneath their feet. Dream stumbled back at the force of the words, and it didn’t seem like such a lucid dream at that moment.  
“You were running after that woman pretty fast,” George added. “Willing to go with her, huh?”  
“It’s not like that,” the tall boy managed. “I didn’t… I wasn’t…”  
He broke off, and made eye contact with the youngest.

“Cat got your tongue?”

The blond inhaled sharply, feeling like a glass shard embedded itself in his abdomen. His eyes fell shut, syrup surrounding his body, and the violent moonlight blackened before his own eyes.

—

Dream jerked awake in his seat, his hands shaking to the bone. His heart thudded hard against his rib cage, and sorrow and guilt squeezed his chest. Black might’ve been clouding his vision, but he couldn’t even tell if that was real. The suffocation was unbearable, forcing him to stand up and walk towards the window that stood in front of him.

He breathed in slowly, and outwards. Dream’s emerald eyes fluttered as the oxygen filled his lungs and carefully left. After a few minutes of ginger breathing and letting his mind wander, he could finally feel his heart slowing. His peripheral vision went back to normal, and he finally let himself take in what was going on.

Walking the two steps over back to his seat, he got his phone out from within his pocket. Defined fingers handled the phone, and his eyes widened in shock at the time.  
 _8:15 AM._  
 _Holy shit. I was out for THAT long?_ was the only thought on his mind, as he tried to wrap his head around the time speeding by.  
His flight was supposed to board within ten minutes. Ten short minutes that he could quickly use the bathroom and call his boys within? Fuck, maybe if he pissed quickly. Shit. The _dududu_ music sounded in his head as he booked it towards the familiar hallroom of the restroom.

Re-emerging from the stall, alone in the bathroom, he washed his shaking hands with the cold water. Soap flowed off of his olive hands, and he was forced to look in the mirror before him.  
His eyes had bags beneath them, subtle, but still there. The green seemed faded, like a wilting clover, and his hair was close to a bird’s nest. His chest rose and sank along with his slouching shoulders, and he still had a slight shake from the earlier dream.  
 _I look like shit. Nice going. Great start to a trip that hasn’t even begun._  
He shook off his hands in the sink and wiped them on a paper towel, before tossing it into the trash bin and walking out of the bathroom. Colder air hit him as he made his way back to his seat, and he carefully took his phone out from his bag.

Dream stared at the group chat, his breaths the only thing he could hear. Though god knows how many people passed behind him, he could barely take in anything that wasn’t the repetitive thought of _‘how do I talk to them?’_  
Time seeped away, and on impulse, he clicked the phone icon and made sure his headphones were connected.

The few moments it rang felt like a lifetime, and he could feel his heart rate spike by the second. Steadying his breathing, the American closed his eyes, and pursed his lips when he heard them pick up. He bit the inside of his cheek, kneading it with his teeth, trying to find the words to start.

“Hey,” he said. “Hiii.”  
“Hey!” Sapnap’s voice rang through, and Dream’s pursed lips involuntarily curved into a smile.  
“Hii,” the last remaining man said. The taller could practically hear the smile in George’s voice, and he probably looked like an actual idiot at the moment, with his grinning.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you before, I fell asleep,” the middle-oldest frowned.  
“Wow, man, prioritizing sleep over us? Since when?” the Brit scoffed playfully.  
Dream rolled his eyes, grinning, despite the melting sun glaring down painfully into his pupils. He shielded his eyes by closing them and throwing his head back against the seat.  
“Since now, because you’re such an idiot, both of you.”  
Sapnap feigned hurt with a whimper, sending them all into fits of giggling.

He’d miss this.  
They weren’t too far away, of course. Only a mere phone call. But even that felt like too long.  
It was his fault that they weren’t coming with him, anyways.

_It was fours weeks ago, basically a month. Four weeks and four days, at eight in the morning. Dream sat at the wooden dinner table, hunched over a plate of golden and scrambled eggs, tea sat neatly next to him. Sapnap sat on the chair next to him, scrolling through whatever website he’d focused his attention to, and George on the couch a few feet away, doing the same. A light shower dribbled outside, gently softening the grass and dirt with the sprinkle of water. Oddly enough, jazz music played faintly in the background, on some obscure music TV channel._

_Dream pushed his eggs around on the plate, staring at them intensely. They could’ve been cooked three times over again with the glare, burnt by the harshness. It didn’t take long for Sapnap to look over and see the emotional state, immediately telling him something was wrong. Really wrong._

_“Clay?” He asked immediately, turning towards him. George’s head snapped up at the tone, and he saw the blond’s expression as well._   
_Dream inhaled and looked over at the youngest, fear in his eyes. He blinked a few times and looked away, raising concern even more. Tension formed in the room, sinking any hope the green-eyed had of getting out of this conversation._

_He grit his teeth, canines against canines, and placed down his fork. With a deep breath, he looked up again._   
_“I want to take a break from YouTube.”_   
_Silence filled the room, and Dream felt like he was swimming in a lake, unknowing of what lay beneath the dark surface. He focused on his breaths, but the terrible scenarios this conversation could end up as swarmed his mind, and he bit down on his inner cheek._

_“Oh.” George said, blinking._   
_Sapnap’s shoulders relaxed, and Dream looked at them confused. They were acting so… chill._   
_“Oh?” Dream repeated. “Is… is that it?”_   
_“Look, dude,” the young brunet began. “You’ve been acting so weird these past few weeks, we thought you were dying or something. But if you want to take a break from YouTube, that’s totally fine.”_   
_“Exactly, like,” George chimed in, “we can’t force you to stay committed 24/7. However long you take is fine. Me and Sap can keep doing videos, and you can take some time for yourself.”_

_Dream exhaled and looked back down at his food. The other two had seemed to gone back to normal, in their own worlds again. Oh dear._

_“That’s…” he pressed a fist to his mouth, and cleared his throat, “that’s not all.”_

_The other two looked up again with furrowed brows, and the tanned Floridian swallowed nervously under their gazes. His eyes trailed the ceiling and its crevices as he forced the next few words out of his mouth._

_“I want to travel the world.”_

_The silence that followed was similar, yet unlike the first. It had the atmosphere of the first, one of processing. However, it had an additional heaviness dragging it down, a ball and chain around the letters and words. It crashed down on Dream, and he felt himself drowning in the unspoken words, the deafening silence._

_“I…” Sapnap started, trailing off. “Well. I suppose that was unexpected. Um-”_   
_“So what’s your plan?” George interrupted. “Are we going to pack up our stuff and go, just leaving everything behind? What are we supposed-”_   
_“That’s the thing,” the light-haired cut him off, gentle eyes staring into the elder’s heterochromia ones. “That’s the thing._   
_The other two fell silent once more, waiting for him to go on. He closed his eyes for a moment, before reopening and deeply breathing in._

_“I want to go alone.”_

The next month was a blur, one that spun in Dream’s head whenever he tried to remember the specifics. He and the others cranked out videos with him in it, ones left unposted, until there was a total of four for his own channel, five for Sapnap, and three for George. They were exhausted, editing them until they were all the same quality- leaving them sleepless at night, just because of Dream. He sent the videos to everyone they knew, making sure their quality wasn’t lacking in the slightest, and that nothing was off. After taking constructive criticism, and editing some more, they were finally done. Ready to be queued for when he left, they could finally rest after weeks of nonstop grinding.

He feared it would be awkward afterwards, but it wasn’t at all. In fact, it was the opposite- the other two made sure to stick with him, check in on how he was doing, pack the little things he had to pack with him. They would stay up until unholy hours in the morning, when the sun rose, in its pink glory, watching movies and playing minecraft and whispering until their voices went hoarse. He would lie on his bed, with Quackity and Karl yelling through his phone, and in the distance he could hear the other boys from their rooms too.

_“I’m gonna miss you,” Dream murmured into Sapnap’s head, drunken from exhaustion._   
_Sapnap let out a sigh and leaned into the touch. “‘M gonna miss you too.”_   
_“Whhhadabout me,” George’s groggy voice asked from beside them._   
_Dream stayed silent before humming jokingly, resulting in an offended gasp from the Brit and a slap. The Floridian broke into giggles before trapping the shorter in his arms, the trio becoming a pile of warmth._   
_“Of course,” he murmured, falling back into the clutches of sleep. “You make it hard not to.”_

“Clay?” George said, waking him up and out of the past.  
“Sorry, what?” he replied after a second.  
“Dude, are you good?” Sapnap asked. “You were out for like, thirty seconds.”  
“Sorry, sorry, just kinda tired.”  
And it wasn’t a lie. He still did have some tiredness from being awoken so abruptly from that dream. Though, it was a better answer than the alternative, AKA him admitting _hey I kind of miss you guys a lot._ Yeah, he had admitted it before, but not this sober and awake.

“Anyways, me and Sap were talking earlier about how stupid it is that apparently in some places, attempted murder has a larger charge than actual murder? Like, what idiot-”  
“You guys are such idiots, oh my god,” Dream mumbled under his breath. _I love you both so much._  
“ _Hey,_ sorry I’m _right-_ ”  
“This is the stuff I’m missing out on… I’m going on a six month trip and staying for a year.”  
He wheezed as George spluttered, with Sapnap cackling in the background. His cheeks began to hurt, and he forced himself into a less expressive face.

“Um, speaking of which,” Dream said after a minute had passed for them to all calm down. “I wanted to ask you both something.”  
The duo on the other side of the phone let out ‘hmm’s and ‘oh?’s. The traveler inhaled silently, and let out a breath through his nose.  
“Be honest with me, okay?”  
“Clay, I-”  
“Just promise me, you’ll be honest,” the tanned cut off the Brit.

A moment of hesitation passed.  
“Okay,” Sapnap said finally, and George let out an ‘mhm.’  
“Okay,” Dream began. “Are you two upset with me?”  
“Upset?” George immediately said. “Why would we be upset?”  
“Yeah, man,” the youngest added. “What?”  
“I don’t know… do you guys wish you had come with me? That I didn’t- didn’t _abandon_ you guys?”  
“Hey, stop. You didn’t abandon us,” and _wow,_ George’s voice slipped into a completely serious tone. “You saw how we were. We support you.”

“But,” and Dream found himself scared again, “but I’m leaving you two behind. I feel selfi-”  
“Don’t you dare say you’re selfish,” Sapnap cut him off. “Clay, I know you’ve been thinking about this for- how long now?”  
The viridian-eyed bit the inside of his cheek. “Six months…”  
“Six months! And you told us last month. And we were fine with it- and we still _are_ fine with it. I remember you telling me as a kid about how you always wanted to travel, and how one day you’d save up money. And how in Minecraft, you’d always build these locations so weird, and then say that you liked visiting them. Dude, I know you better than you think, and if you feel like this is the best thing you want to do, then _do it._ You could literally tell me and George you want to quit YouTube and go work on a farm, and that would be completely fine with us. Don’t apologize for wanting to do something.”

Dream found himself unable to respond. Speechless, maybe. George was violently agreeing, repeating some points and all, but the blond couldn’t focus on anything aside from the rant Sapnap had unleashed. The shaking of his hands slowed, slowly but carefully, and the anxiety gripping his heart slightly released its claws.  
“-Got it, Clay?” George said, and his voice was way too confident for his liking.  
“I- I got it,” he said, and his voice was crackly and pathetic.  
Dream exhaled again, but this time, it was different. When his breath went out, so did so much doubt and anxiety, like a feather through a wind. A smile crawled across his face, and he closed his eyes for a split seconds

“Thank you, both,” he said, and by god did he mean it.  
“Don’t thank us,” George sighed. “You know we would do anything for you, even if you are a loser.”  
Dream snorted. “Same, you idiot.”

At that moment, there was an announcement over the speakers.  
 _“Good afternoon passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 89B to Atlanta. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring…”_  
“Is that you?” The Brit asked, and Dream pursed his lips.  
“Yes, but I still have time-”  
“What zone are you in?”  
Dream rolled his eyes. “EST, you idiot-”  
“ _Seat zone._ ”

The blond opened the app for his flight, and checked when he was to board.  
“...First class.”  
“So you’re gonna board soon,” Sapnap said.  
“Yeah.”  
There was silence. He couldn’t tell if it was of unspoken thoughts, or quiet sadness. Was it sadness, though, for him?   
This flight was only to Atlanta, yes, and then to Arizona. But it wasn’t necessarily about the locations themselves, but the fact that he was leaving. For months. From Arizona, he planned to travel to Seattle. then Canada, and from Canada, to England. After that were numerous other countries, ones he was too nervous to think about just then. Nervous, excited, or anxious- all of them seemed to be bunched together.

“Thank you,” Dream murmured.  
“For?” George asked.  
“Everything.”  
Sapnap let out an amused huff through his nose, and the tanned could practically hear his smile through the phone. His eyes gazed down at the floor, his grip on the phone impossibly tightening.  
“I love you guys.”  
“I love you too, man,” the youngest said.  
“Love you, Clay.”

“Now go,” Sapnap said. “Call us after the flight, got it?”  
“After every one,” Dream said, grinning.  
“Goodbye, Clay. Have a safe flight, or else.”  
“Bye, Clay!”

 _“Now boarding: first class and Epsilon+.”_  
And as the phone hung up, the announcement sounded overheard, echoing through the airport and his heart. As he stood up, with his backpack slung over his shoulder, and his suitcase by his side, he felt his knees weaken just a bit. Maybe it was from the anxiety, or from him sitting down for a bit too long- whatever it was, though, didn’t matter to him.  
He was going to get on that flight. On all the flights.

Making his way to the line, with his face mask fully on, his knuckles were white around the handle of his baggage. Dream clumsily took out his phone, fumbling it in shaking hands and scanning it over the scanner by the jet bridge’s entrance.  
“Have a safe flight,” the man, face obscured by his mask, told him.  
“Thank you.”  
He walked through the door connecting the gate to the jetwalk, and made his way down the semi-steep corridor. The sound of his boots along the carpet mixed with the sounds of other peoples’ shoes gave him a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a while, one he couldn’t pinpoint. It was anything but negative, though.

Stepping onto the plane, Dream went to his right and down just a few rows to get to his first class seat. With his remaining energy, he lifted his small suitcase above him and stuffed it into the overhead compartment, making sure it was secured before taking his seat.  
Due to the pandemic, he had a side to himself, essentially two free sears. Using this to his advantage, he plopped his backpack down in it and scooted to the window. Clicking his seatbelt on and stuffing his backpack beneath the seat in front of him, he finally settled in.

The jade-eyed man wasn’t sure how much time had passed, before he heard the final announcement for a while. When the voice sounded through the overheard speakers, he felt his shoulders loosen. He hadn’t even realized they were tense, along with his furrowed brows and clenched jaw. Relaxing his face, he melted into his seat and shut his eyes.

_Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 4B7 with service from Jacksonville to Atlanta. We are currently third in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately three minutes time. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing Epsilon Airlines. Enjoy your flight._

At the sound, he popped open his phone and opened Spotify. Swallowing sharply, Dream pressed ‘shuffle’ on his playlist and shut off his phone. Gentle guitar played through his AirPods, lulling him into a gentle daze.

_The cute bomber jacket you've had since sixth form  
Adorned with patches of places you’ve been  
Is nothing on my khaki coat that I got  
From a roadside when I was sixteen _

And if you were the person across the row from him, you wouldn’t notice him at all. For a celebrity hidden in anonymity, all you would see was a blond man, who lay in his seat, head against the rest. His shoulders would be relaxed against the back, shoulder blades against the leather. His eyes would be shut peacefully, and you would turn the other way, his existence escaping your mind with a whimper.

_My boots are from airports  
My backpack's from friends  
I'm not a man of substance and so I’ll pretend  
To be a wanderer, wandering  
Leaving ascetic belongings in hostels and restaurant bins _

Gentle rain began pelting the windows, splashing and mixing with the brightening rays of the sun. The lights reflected off of the drops along the window, orange and clear orbs dotting the acrylic. Dream’s breath softened with the shower, and the lights in the cabin faded as the engines roared awake, moving the plane down the runway.

_The roads are my home as horizon's my target  
If I keep on moving, never lose sight of it  
Treating my memory of you like a fire, let it  
Burn out, don't fight it and try to move on _

The buzz began, beneath his skin. The itch that had crawled through his bones, weaving through his bloodstream, was being scratched at now, with claws of the unknown. When he landed in Atlanta, it would not be that much different, no. But it would be the beginning of something much, much more. From there, only his heart would take him.

_It's been sixty weeks since I saw Vienna  
A bandage and a wide smile slapped across my face  
I'll pick up my hiking boots when I am ready  
And I'll put down my roots when I'm dead _

Sometimes he felt some panic, especially in the month prior. What if he couldn’t fully communicate with people in foreign countries because the language barrier, especially if it was a completely different alphabet? What if he got lost. Arrested.  
That fire, though, setting his mind painfully alight. It would get burnt out with a gentle breeze, a quick huff of curiosity, which ruled over all of his other conflicting emotions. With a hiss, the flames would sizzle out, only to be replaced by those of wanting.

_The distance is futile  
Come on, don't be hasty _

Dream flexed his hands on his armrests, scratching at the plastic as the plane’s speed increased. He let out a deep breath, and with it was now a smile. A small laugh escaped his lungs, and he felt something heavy release itself from his chest. 

_You’ll get that feeling deep inside your bones_

Let go, George had told him a few weeks ago, in the middle of a shower just like this. Under a black umbrella, one they had escaped to the car with, now standing outside the vehicle… Go to what was calling him. What felt right. Words had previously been on the tip of his tongue, daring to pool off in a _do you hate me?_  
And on that day, as he felt more rain seep into his shoulder blades, with chocolate doe eyes gazing up at him, he felt everything click.

_I’ll be gone then…_

So he went with what felt right.

_When you must be…_

The airplane tipped off the runway, and into the sky.

_Alone._

Dream let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come follow me and talk! :)
> 
> [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/gildedobsidian)
> 
> [Wattpad!](http://w.tt/37PeQU9)

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me and talk! :)
> 
> [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/gildedobsidian)
> 
> [Wattpad!](http://w.tt/37PeQU9)


End file.
